


A Christmas Storm

by CiderWriter (orphan_account)



Series: Christmas [4]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik is a Sweetheart, M/M, Protective Erik, erik with children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8763007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/CiderWriter
Summary: DAY 5 of Christmas Countdown
“Erik, I swear to god, you could sleep through an ice age. Wake up!”
It may be Christmas morning, but it's far too early to get up yet. Charles and Storm seem to have other ideas, and seem intent on keeping Erik from his sleep.





	

_Darling, could you wake up?_

Erik heard Charles’ voice in his head like a dream and took comfort from the soothing tone, burying himself further into the duvet, evading consciousness for just a little while longer. Every year it was the same. He almost dreaded Christmas morning for this exact reason.

_Erik, wake up._

He may have groaned in protest, trying to remember what he’d been dreaming and ignoring the rapidly impatient feeling of Charles inside his head. Charles wanted him to get up, but a simple touch of his powers to the bedroom clock told him he’d only been asleep for four hours. That was far too early, even for Christmas. He squeezed his eyes tighter.

“Erik, I swear to god, you could sleep through an ice age. Wake up!”

Erik sat bolt upright, covers falling from his body. If Charles was resorting to speaking out loud, there wasn’t a doubt in Erik’s mind that he was needed urgently. The last time Erik had resisted waking up to Charles’ voice in his head, the last time Charles had used his voice at night, was when he was calling for painkillers to help his aching back.

“What’s wrong?” Even as he spoke, he got the feeling he knew what the answer was. The room was so cold he could see his own breath and, outside their window, a storm raged wildly. Nothing had been forecast and he knew as well as Charles did who the cause was, even without being a telepath. “Charles, you can’t be serious. Make someone else go to her.”

He made it a general principle that he didn’t speak to the younger children, but somehow they seemed to find him wherever he went. It was like they were magnetic; attracted to his every location. Ororo was one of them. And if she was upset, as it seemed she was, or having a bad dream, Charles was right in thinking him. Someone had to go to her anyway, he knew that much. Or else the other children that had stayed over Christmas would be waking up momentarily and swarming their room with complaints. Charles, being the infuriating teddy bear he was, would let them into their bed without conferring with Erik in the slightest.

“Erik.” Charles said, his voice like a sigh. As if that was enough to convince Erik to get out of bed. “Ororo likes you and she’ll listen to you.”

“She prefers Raven.” Erik responded blandly.

“Yes, well Raven isn’t here, is she? Now, either go find Storm and stop my legs freezing off without my knowledge, or I’ll make you.”

“No you wouldn’t.” He muttered, climbing out of bed regardless and pulling his discarded pyjama’s on. “And one day, Schatz, you won’t boss me around either.”

* * *

Ororo’s room wasn’t too far from their own which, hopefully, was why there’s was so dreadfully closed. When he entered, he found he sleeping fitfully. She looked pale and a little clammy, skinny arms and legs tangled up in her bedsheets. But at least she wasn’t crying, he thought, which was most important. He never knew how to deal with the children when they were happy, let alone when they were screaming.

“Ororo?” He asked softly. “You’re freezing Charles’ legs off.”

She didn’t wake, and so he moved to her bed and crouched beside her. She was so young to have such bad dreams, and she reminded him far too much of himself at that age. It was only when she was sleeping that the anger melted from her face, and her dark features softened with peace and rest.

Whatever she was dreaming, it wasn’t showing on her face. The storm had eased already, and the rain lashing against the window eased up.

“There you go, Liebling. There.” He stroked her head softly and stood, pulling her duvet up a little higher. “I’ll see you in a few hours, at a more respectable time. Charles will make you eat fruit while he stuffs himself with chocolate, and then he’ll complain for the entire walk around the grounds. How does that sound?”

In her sleep, Ororo sniffed slightly.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Goodnight, storm.” He nodded, as if she could see him, and in the back of his mind he heard Charles’ soft laughter at his expense.

_Screw you, Charles._

_If you come back to bed soon you can do just that._ Charles replied, and his grin was audible.


End file.
